


The Devil Series

by TheBookishFeminist



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookishFeminist/pseuds/TheBookishFeminist
Summary: A chance encounter at a bar with a mysterious stranger proves to be a lot more than you bargained for.
Relationships: Rio (Good Girls)/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	1. Dance with the Devil

Your day had been a nightmare from the moment you’d opened your eyes. 

Not only had your phone died in the night, leaving you without an alarm, due to an accident on the freeway your drive to work had taken almost an hour longer.

To say that your boss was pissed was an understatement. You worked as an accountant for a small firm and your supervisor, a heavyset, perpetually sweaty man with wandering hands had had it in for you ever since you’d thrown a glass of punch in his face when he tried to fondle your ass during the office chritsmas party.

He’d made your worklife a living hell ever since, and today was no exception.

Not for the first time did you wish that you could just quit, but the mountainous student loan you were still paying off didn’t allow you to dwell on such fanatsies for long.

So you’d gritted your teeth, kept your head down and tried not to attack the man with a stapler when he made you run your - clearly flawless - numbers by him over and over again.

By the time you finally clocked out, you were so worked up you decided against sitting home alone over a solitary meal and instead headed to a nearby bar for a drink.

It wasn’t something you usually did but after that hell of a day you figured you deserved to unwind a little.

It was still early, so the bar wasn’t particularly crowded. You took a seat by the counter, dumping your purse on the empty stool next to yours as you ordered your poison.

Downing the drink in one, you grimaced at the sharp burn of alcohol down your throat. You’d had to skip lunch and even the one shot went straight to your head, the pleasant buzz almost enough to drown out your thoughts. Almost. You gestured to the bartender for another when a voice next to you spoke up.

“Bad day, huh?” You swiveled in your seat, secretly glad that you weren’t too far gone to loose your balance yet. A man leaned against the bar, his back to the counter, legs crossed nonchalantly in front of him, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

Almost unconsciously, you straightend, one hand going up to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind your ear. The man was quite attractive, the large eagle tattoo that peeked from the collar of his black button-down additing a dash of danger to his brand of sexappeal.

He surprised you again when his own hand reached out to brush the rebellious lock away from your face, the gesture making you shiver. In response to your stupefied expression, he merely winked.

“Next round’s on me, if you tell me what sorrows a pretty lady like you needs to drown. Who knows, I might be able to help you out. Pretty dab hand at drowning things that cause me sorrow.” This preposterous statement was accompanied by such a blinding grin that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, alright. You can buy me a drink and listen to my tale of woe. Keep those hands to yourself though, I don’t appreciate being touched without my consent. That’s kinda how this,” you gestured at the dingy bar, “started, so just…don’t, okay?”

The way his eyes darkened at your words would have been frightening but something told you his palpable anger was directed at whoever had mistreated you, rather than at yourself. Sure enough, his next words confirmed your suspicions.

“So who’s this bastard that’s giving you a hard time, mama? Tell me all about it.”

And you did. You were vaguely aware that telling your life story to a stranger at a bar was ridiculously cliché and possibly dangerous, but the way he listened, so intently, his focus on you never wavering, just pulled the words from you and it was only when you finished that you realized how badly you’d needed to talk about all that weighed you down, some of the burden lifted just by sharing it with this kind, patient listener.

Two more drinks had come and gone while you’d talked and you felt light and euphoric, the booze and conversation erasing some of the tension that had dogged your steps. You could feel yourself blushing when you slowly emerged back into the moment.

“Anyway… Yeah. That’s about it. I’m so sorry I just dumped that all on you, I-” The man clicked his tongue, shushing you. “Don’t apologize for taking something you were offered. I told you to talk, you talked.” His tone brooked no argument and you relaxed at his obvious sincerity.

The man finished his drink and smoothly slid off the stool, holding out a hand to you. “You talked, now you’ll dance with me. Got the bad shit out, gotta replace it with something good.” his grin was teasing, his intense brown eyes sparking with a flirty energy that instantly pulled you in. The bar sported a tiny dance floor, completely empty, but you found you didn’t care.

The moment your hand touched his, an electric current shot through you, his grip firm and sure as he led you to the floor. You had expected a chaste, standard dance but your new acquaintance was having none of that. He pulled you flush against him, one arm slung loosely around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck, making the small hairs stand on end. He leaned forward, his hot breath caressing your skin as he whispered to you. “This good, mama? Tell me no, I’ll stop. You’re in charge here.” the reference to your earlier statement emboldened you.

You snaked your own arm around his middle, resting your free hand on his chest, above his heart, curling into the fabric of his shirt. The scent of expensive cologne enveloped you as you sank into his embrace and allowed him to lead you through the steps.

He was an expert dancer, his movements flowing smooth and precise, his grip strong but sensuous. The way his gaze bore into yours, the way his hand tangled in your hair had your breath come in short bursts. Your lips parted, his eyes zooming in on the small movement and for one crazy second you thought, wished, that he would lean forward that final inch and kiss you. He must have read your expression for he chuckled low. “Told you, mama, you’re in charge. You want something, take it.”

At this challenge, issued in his dark, silky voice, something hot and needy rose in you, a feeling of power and attraction no man had ever made you feel before. Still swaying against him to the beat, you looked up through your lashes, hand trailing up his chest and neck. When you traced the eagle tattoo with your nail, the faintest scratch against skin, his shiver made you smirk. Slowly, you moved your hand to cup the back of his head, angling it down just so, his lips a mere fraction from yours…

With a loud pop the music cut off as the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. A chorus of voices sprang up, quickly silenced by the bartender, muttering something about a faulty fuse and everybody just stay calm.

You had sprung back at the fright but he’d kept hold of your hand. He brought it to his lips for the briefest kiss before letting go.

“Time for me to leave, mama. You and me, we ain’t done yet. I’ll see you again.” You could feel him move away, the faint glow of the streetlights from the windows illuminating his trek to the door. “Wait!” you called, not caring about the curios glances the other patrons cast your way. “You don’t even have my number, how-”

He had reached the door, one hand on the knob as he looked at you over his shoulder with a crooked smile. “Oh, don’t you worry, mama, I’ll find you. I never leave any business unfinished.”

With that he was out the door, leaving you to wonder what had just happened, hoping he would keep his promise.


	2. Date with the Devil

All weekend, wherever your errands had taken you, you’d kept an eye out for your mysterious dance partner. It was ridiculous, of course. What were the odds of finding someone without so much as a name in a city this big. And yet, you couldn’t help turning your head at every well-dressed man in black with close cropped hair. It was never him. None had his confidence, his almost feline grace. You tried to quell your disappointment as you went about your routine. The evening had taken on an almost fairytale quality, only in this one, it was the prince who disappeared at midnight.

When Monday rolled around, you were less than thrilled to return to work and face your boss’ relentless bullying. The moment you entered the building, you could tell that something had happened. Your coworkers, normally a more than sedate bunch, stood in little groups scattered about the hallway, talking excitedly among themselves. You caught snippets here and there but couldn’t make any sense of it.

“… said it was for health reasons…”

“… job too dangerous? All he does is sit on his ass all day, only one in danger is his chair…”

“…probably caught him embezzling. Always thought he was shady…”

“…fucker better spring for donuts at least, Dave Wellington brought that cake last year, remember…”

When you reached your cubicle, you pulled aside Kara, one of the few colleagues you actually got along with. “What’s going on here? Why is no one working? Brian’s gonna have their head if he finds them loitering in the hallway.”

Kara looked at you in surprise. “You haven’t heard? It’s all over the office. Brian quit this morning. HR is royally pissed cause he just waltzed in without warning and said he’d leave, effective immediately. Spouted some bs about his health or that the job was too stressful or something, didn’t even want his holiday pay, can you believe it?” You gaped at your friend, stunned. Not in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that your tormentor would leave of his own accord. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you stifled a gleeful laugh only to find your sentiment mirrored in Kara’s face. “Oh please, we’re all happy the bastard’s leaving. Couple of us are actually gonna go for celebratory drinks later, you should join us. I know how hard he always went on you.” And yet you never once stood up for me, you thought bitterly, yet you found yourself nodding. Office politics were tricky and you couldn’t blame people for trying to fit in.

After agreeing on a time and place for drinks, you settled at your desk and got to work, the day passing in an almost pleasant blur now that you did not constantly have your boss breathing down your neck. You finished up and said your farewells, promising again to join them at the bar later.

You were deep in thought, hunched over your phone when a voice called out to hold the elevator. You looked up distractedly, your body going rigid when you recognized the man hurrying towards you. It was Brian, a large cardboard box wedged under one arm. Even from a distance, you could tell that he looked terrible. He was drawn, his skin sallow and clammy under the unforgiving fluorescents. What you weren’t prepared for was his reaction when he noticed you. Impossibly, his face paled even more, his eyes widening in an almost comical display of fear. You watched as the carton slipped from his grasp, the sound of breaking china echoing across the hall. He took a step back, his voice shaky when he addressed you. “I… It’s ok. Y-You go on. I’ll c-catch the next one. Have a g- a good day now.” Mystified, you let the doors close. Maybe he really was sick. He sure looked like it.

By the time you arrived home, you’d shaken off the encounter. You pulled up some upbeat music, singing and dancing along as you got ready for meeting your colleagues. You put maybe a little more care into your appearance than a work outing warranted, but you were in the mood to celebrate. You called an Uber and put the finishing touches on your makeup when the doorbell rang.

Even for Uber, that was fast. You hurried to the door, slipping on your heels as you went. “Wow, you’ve really upped your service game. Last time I had to wait almost half an-” the words died in your throat when you realized who stood before you.

“Hey, mama.”

His trademark smirk was firmly in place even as you stared at him, for the moment completely speechless.

“Told you I’d find you. You should have a little more faith in me.” He let his gaze roam over your body appreciatively. “Looking fine tonight. Picked the right moment to stop by.”

“I am waiting for my Uber.” you blurted inanely, wanting to smack yourself. Of all the things to say. His laugh restored you to your senses. “Nah, mama, you don’t need an Uber tonight. You’re gonna come with me, finish that business of ours.” he ascended the steps, holding out his hand just short of touching you. “Maybe start a new one. Choice is yours, sweetheart.” There it was. That velvety voice, that intoxicating scent. You didn’t have to think twice. Taking his outstretched hand, you let him lead you to a gleaming Caddy parked in front of your house. He held the door for you, his hand lingering on your back as he guided you into the seat.

He got behind the wheel and threw you a wink before he started the car, the engine purring to live. You knew the feeling. As he pulled into traffic, you took the opportunity to study him in daylight. He was, if anything, even more handsome, clad in another black shirt, clearly of high quality. “Where are you taking me?” you asked, vaguely aware that maybe you shouldn’t have blindly gotten into a car with a virtual stranger, one who had managed to track you down without even knowing your name. Maybe he’s a cop, you mused, even as your train of thought reminded you of something. “And your name. You never told me and I figure you owe me, since you obviously know mine.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “You can call me Christopher. And don’t worry about where we’re going. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?” his attempt at puppy eyes was slightly hampered by the heat in his gaze as he turned his head towards you before focusing on the traffic again. “So how was work, mama? Boss of yours still giving you a hard time?” For just a moment, you saw something in his expression, something that would have scared you had it not been gone so fast. Putting it down to your imagination, you shook the feeling off.

“Actually, he quit. Totally out of the blue. We were going to celebrate, couple coworkers and I. Hence-” you gestured at your outfit, barely suppressing a smile when his eyes tracked the movement and he visibly had to tear his gaze back to the road. “I’m glad to hear it. Sounds like it was high time he found something else.” the evident satisfaction in his voice warmed you. You weren’t used to people feeling protective over you, although he of course hadn’t actually done anything. “Trust me, I’m a lot more fun than your stuffy office buddies.” You returned his smile and leaned back, enjoying the comfort of the smooth leather seats.

A short while later, the car came to a stop on front of the town’s most celebrated restaurants. You had heard the kitchen was amazing, but it was booked out for months in advance, not that you could have afforded so much as an entrée. Your bubble of excitement quickly burst when you took in the darkened windows. “Um, Christopher, I don’t think they’re open.”

A raised eyebrow was all the answer you got as he exited the car and came around to the passenger side. When you took his offered hand, he didn’t let go, guiding you to the entrance. You gasped in surprise when the door swung open, revealing a silver haired, well groomed man in his 50ies. You barely suppressed a gasp. This was the owner himself, a renowned chef you’d seen on television a couple of times. He clasped Christopher’s shoulder with a cordial smile. “Ah, welcome. And to the lady as well.” he addressed you with a low bow. “Your table is ready, everything as you asked. If you need anything, I will be at your service personally.”

He led you to a table by the windows, beautifully set with fine linen, candlelight flickering from a silver holder. When he tried to pull your chair out for you, Christopher beat him to it and with a good-natured chuckle, the man departed.

Your companion still stood behind your chair. Catching your eye in the reflection of the window, he leaned down, brushing his lips against the bare skin of your shoulder, the faintest hint of a kiss. Even this small touch set your insides aflame, the heat pooling low as you unconsciously leaned back to grant him better access. You felt him smirk against you, his lips and the scrape of his stubble doing nothing for your composure. “Oh no, mama, not yet. We don’t want to offend Carlos, he takes great pride in his food.” With that he pulled back and took his seat across from you.

Once your erratic heartbeat had calmed down, you properly took in your surroundings, marveling at the stunning artwork and tasteful décor.

“This is amazing. I’ve always wanted to come here. How do you know him?” you gushed, not missing his smug smile at your obvious happiness. “Helped him out a couple of times. He owed me a favor.” he shrugged, clearly pleased with himself.

You perked up at this piece of information. “What is it that you do?” you asked, genuinely curious. Before he could answer, a livelied waiter brought you a bottle of champagne and your starters. The taste of the dish momentarily distracted you, your quiet moan of pleasure ending in a sharp intake of breath when his leg brushed yours beneath the table.

He had the audacity to give you a concerned look. “You alright there, mama? Something wrong with your food?” Oh, two can play at that game, you thought as you slipped off your heel, nudging his calf with your bare foot. “Not at all, it’s delicious. What was that you did again? You never said.” The faintest tremor rocked his frame at your touch, making you smile. So you did have an effect on him as well. He recovered quickly. “I’m an entrepreneur. Independent. Running my own crew.”

You puzzled over this rather cryptic answer as the meal progressed. Conversation flowed easily, the topics interesting and engaging. Once again, he proved to be an excellent listener as he made you talk about your life, your upbringing and your work, the fact that you worked as an accountant apparently more fascinating to him than you were used to. “Numbers, huh? A skill that opens many doors. Good to know.” he’d smirked, leaving you flattered and a little confused.

Too soon, the - spectacular - dessert had been consumed and after thanking Carlos, he led you back to the car. All the way home, you warred with yourself. The evening had neen increasingly fraught with sexual tension, legs and hands brushing as though by accident, heated glances exchanged across the table. Part of you wanted nothing more than to invite him in and find out what else that sensuous mouth was good for, but another part of you was still wary. While you had talked for hours, you still knew virtually nothing about him. You only knew you wanted to see him again

Soon, he pulled up in front of your house, he once again got out to help you from the car, walking you to the front steps, his hand resting comfortably on the small of your back. As you reached the door, you turned to him a little nervously. Just as you were about to speak, to say what you didn’t even know yourself, he stopped you by placing a single finger over your lips.

“Shhh, mama. No rushing this. Tonight? Tonight was just a prelude, a taste of what I’ve got planned for you. You don’t give away the best part right at the beginning.” his finger traced your lips before he brought it to his own mouth, the gesture somehow more intimate and erotic than any kiss you’d ever experienced.

Keeping his eyes on yours, a slow smile on his face, he walked backwards until he reached the car. “I’ll be back, mama. Don’t forget me.”

As if I ever could, you thought as you watched his car disappear around the bend. Shivering, you unlocked the door and hurried inside. You were in desperate need of a cold shower.


	3. Dreams of the Devil

His hands roamed over your body, agonizingly slow, making you squirm beneath his hot touch. You were spread across a magnificent bed, the cool sensation of the black silk sheets heightening your pleasure as Christopher hovered over you. His mouth fastened onto your nipple and you felt his tip nudge your entrance, tantalizingly close and yet nowhere near close enough.

“Please, Christopher, please.” you whimpered, arching against him, your whole body on fire with need.

His smirk sent a shiver of anticipation through you. “You want me, mama?” his finger dipped into your wetness, making you moan. “Yes, babe, that’s it. You’re ready, aren’t you? So ready. Very well, your wish is my command.” he shifted above you, eyes boring into yours as he finally, finally pushed…

You jerked upright as the loud buzz of your alarm penetrated your sleep- and lust-clouded mind.

With a frustrated groan, you sank back into your pillows.

This had been the third night in a row that you’d dreamed about him and by now you felt ready to spontaneously combust. Two weeks had passed since your date and you were starting to think he might not come back at all. You hated yourself for the deep disappointment you felt, reminding yourself that he was as much as a mystery as he had been the night you’d met.

Shaking off the gloom, you headed into the shower and got ready for work, taking care to dress in your best skirt suit and new heels.

Today was a big day. HR had summoned you for a talk, not deigning to give any further reasons, and you had been on edge ever since. You were reasonably sure your performance was up to standard and you hadn’t heard any complaints, but who knew?

When you entered the building, your nerves were at breaking point. Kara hurried over to your cubicle to give you a cheerful thumbs-up and then you were off to the meeting. Taking a moment in front of the imposing mahogany doors, you discreetly wiped your sweaty palms on your skirt before you knocked and entered.

Behind a conference table sat two women, the head of HR, Marissa, and the CEO, Mary. You swallowed hard at this show of force and took the offered seat.

With the pleasantries out of the way, the CEO turned to you, a woman both whip-smart and gorgeous, with dark skin and lush curves, who had clawed her way to the top in a male-dominated world, earning her something of a heroine’s status among the female employees.

“Miss Y/L/N, thank you for coming on such short notice, I know you’re busy picking up the slack in your department after Mr. Hale’s rather hasty departure.” It was true. The workload had almost doubled in the weeks since Brian left, keeping you busy well past your regular hours. You didn’t mind. With him gone, you remembered that you actually loved your job and overtime didn’t bother you. At your nod, she continued.

“We won’t take up too much of your time then. It has come to my attention that, especially these past weeks, you’ve really stepped up, no challenge too daunting, making sure our business continues to run in accordance with our very high standards. As you know, Mr. Hale’s position hasn’t been filled yet. His termination of contract came so abruptly that we didn’t have a successor lined up. Which brings me to the reason we asked you here today. We would like you to take over as head of your department. Your work ethic and the quality of your output speak for themselves and we have no doubt that you’ll more than fill Mr. Hale’s shoes. What do you say? If you need time to think about it, we will of course understand.”

You sat, staring at her in total awe, vaguely aware that your mouth hung open but you couldn’t help it. You were hardly the most senior employee and there was a line of people more deserving of the position. And yet, here you were, being offered the promotion of your dreams. With an effort, you got yourself under control enough so you could nod, eventually finding your voice.

“No. Yes. I mean, no, I don’t have to think about it and yes, I will take it. Of course I will, if you really think… I am so, so grateful, I-” Mary’s gentle laugh cut off your rambling.

“Oh, we do, Miss Y/L/N. You’re perfect for the position and you come… highly recommended, so trust us when we say, we are glad to have you on board. You can move your personal effects to Mr. Hale’s office and settle in. You’ll already know Mr. Wells, of course, he’ll take over as your personal assistant like he did for Brian, unless you would rather work with someone else. Anything you want or need, you let me or Marissa know.”

The way from the boardroom to your cubicle passed almost in a daze and when you started gathering what little personal items you kept on your desk you had to fend off a slew of concerned coworkers, explaining that, no, you hadn’t gotten laid off, quite the contrary. Their reactions were mostly congratulatory and they insisted on treating you to lunch that day, extracting the promise that you’d spring for drinks some night soon.

After settling into Brian’s - your - office, you joined your friends at a small restaurant around the corner, the mood festive over spring rolls and spicy chicken.

When one of the waiters approached your table with a single champagne flute, you frowned up at him in confusion. “We didn’t order this, why-?” he smiled kindly as he pointed in the direction of the door. “It’s courtesy of the gentleman over there.” you followed his outstretched hand and felt your stomach lurch as you caught sight of your mystery benefactor.

Christopher stood on the sidewalk by the door, looking in through the large window. When your eyes met, he slowly brought his finger up to his lips, reminiscent of your last encounter. Despite the stuffy heat of the restaurant, you shivered.

His smirk told you he’d caught the movement even as, with a lazy wave, he turned and disappeared from view. You were up and out of your seat like a shot but once you pushed open the door, he was long gone.

The encounter stayed with you the entire day, a flutter of excitement and warmth lending a spring to your step. So he hadn’t forgotten you after all.

When you returned home that night, you were looking forward to a long celebratory soak in the tub and, since it was Friday, maybe a glass of the nice red you’d kept for a special occasion.

As was your custom, you dumped your mail onto your hall table, but tonight your gaze went back to the small pile as one parcel in particular caught your attention.

A thick, cream colored envelope, your first name scribbled across the front in a handwriting you didn’t recognize. You tore open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper. On it, in the same masculine scrawl, one short paragraph was printed: Tomorrow. 8am. Cancel all other plans. The note wasn’t signed but you knew immediately who had sent it. Excitement bubbled up as you went through your nightly routine.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

~~~~~~

Sleep had been elusive and you were up with the dawn, sipping coffee on the front porch as you watched your neighborhood slowly come to life. Part of you knew that being at his beck and call like this was wrong, but you figured you wouldn’t have to turn in your feminist card for letting a man take charge every now and then.

You hummed as you got ready, settling on a rose colored sundress and sandals since the day promised to be warm and you didn’t know where he would take you.

8 o'clock on the dot your doorbell rang and after another quick look into the mirror, you grabbed your purse and opened the door. A slow smile spread across his face as he took you in. “Morning, mama. You puttin’ that sunrise to shame with your beauty. Ready to go?” A warm flush spread through you at his compliment. Beaming, you took his hand and allowed him to help you into the passenger seat. His fingertips ran up the length of your bare arm, up to your shoulder and back down, raising goosebumps in their wake before he shut the door and got in on the driver’s side.

“You enjoyed the champagne yesterday? What was the occasion?” he asked, eyes focused on the road as he switched lanes.

As you recounted the fantastic tale of your promotion, he reached a hand across and briefly squeezed yours, his tone ringing with pride when he spoke. “Good for you, sweetheart. About time they recognized your talent and hard work.” Somehow, these words touched you more than any of his previous compliments.

“Thank you. Truly. It came as a total surprise and it was…weird, you know? Who would recommend me? But I’m not complaining.” The throwaway comment about someone recommending you was a puzzle you intended to solve one day but today was not it. Figuring the topic might give you an opening to learn a little more about Christopher, you turned in your seat to face him.

“How about you? How’s that, um, business of yours going?” You thought you saw a flash of amusement cross his features, there and gone so fast you might have imagined it.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “Not as good as yours, mama. My own accountant’s giving me trouble. Looks like he’s embezzling but I can’t be sure, I ain’t as sharp with numbers as you are. Don’t wanna get the cops involved though, we’re a…family business, you might say. We handle these things ourselves.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. Today we’ll celebrate you and your success.”

As someone intimately familiar with the cold, uncaring corporate world, the fact that he considered his employees family he wanted to protect from persecution even when they potentially stole from him made your heart swell with affection. You were just about to reply when the car slowed, rolling to a stop.

Curiously, you peeked through the window, eyes widening when you realized where he’d taken you.

“The beach? Ooh, I haven’t been here in ages!” You practically bounced in your seat with glee. While the weather wasn’t hot enough to go for a swim yet, just being near the water, the sound of the waves gently lapping at the shore, the scent of salt and brine on the air, was plenty for you to get excited about. You loved the beach.

This time, you didn’t wait for him to open your door as you got out, waiting impatiently for him to round the car.

“Someone’s eager.” he laughed, his expression smug as he laced his fingers through yours. “Lead the way then, baby.”

It was all the invitation you needed. Hand in hand, the two of you strolled along the boardwalk, stopping for coffee and belgian waffles at one of the many food stalls before you climbed down the steps leading to the beach. You slipped off your sandals and waded into the shallows, the cold spray biting your exposed skin but you didn’t care. You turned to Christopher expectantly, clapping happily when you saw him take off his shoes and socks and roll up his pant legs to join you in the water.

“Fuck, that shit’s cold.” he cursed, making you giggle. He turned a mock glare on you. “Oh you think this is funny, do you? How about this?” He flicked his foot, splashing you with water. Your squeal of protest quickly turned into laughter as you took your revenge, the two of you chasing each other across the surf.

It was the most playful and relaxed you had ever seen him, his usually stoic, impenetrable, almost sardonic exterior making way for a sort of boyish charm you found extremely endearing.

When you were both out of breath, you dropped onto the sand, letting the midday sun dry your hair and clothes.

You lay side by side, your hand firmly clasped in his. “Thank you, Christopher. For taking me here.” He turned to face you at your words, brushing a damp lock of hair away from your face. “Nah, mama. Thank you. Needed a day off. It’s good to get away sometimes.” Your eyes met, his gaze uncharacteristically open, almost vulnerable. Without looking away, he leaned over, almost in slow motion, and placed a single kiss to your lips, the gesture so chaste and sweet it took your breath away.

The day passed way too quickly, a delicious lunch at a seafood restaurant followed by ice cream on the boardwalk. Dusk was falling and you were walking the length of the beach, hand in hand, watching the sun sink into the ocean in a spectacular display of burning pinks and oranges. You hadn’t realized quite how far you’d walked and when you looked around, you found yourself in a secluded bay, surrounded by tall rocks and shrubbery.

“Maybe we should turn ba-” He cut off your words by placing his index on your mouth, the by now familiar gesture taking on a whole new intensity when he briefly slipped the digit between your lips only to trace it down your exposed throat.

“Hush. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Trust me.”

The way your body shook had nothing to do with the chill night air when he knelt down in front of you, looking up the length of your body with an expression that made your knees weak.

Almost teasingly, he ran his hands up your bare legs, under the hem of your dress, fingers trailing the inside of your thighs until he reached your panties. A hiss escaped his lips as he felt the dampness, the sound turning into a breathy chuckle. “Oh this is gonna be fun, mama.” he promised darkly before he slid the fabric down, letting the garment drop onto the sand at your feet.

With a wink, he pushed up your dress, making you shiver at the combination of the breeze caressing your bare skin and his heavy gaze feasting on your naked form.

When he leaned forward to lick and kiss a hot trail up the inside of your thigh, you gasped, the scrape of his stubble on the sensitive skin adding to the sensation.

Your hands found his shoulders, nails digging in as you held on tightly. He grunted but didn’t tell you to stop.

By now he had reached the junction between your legs and when his tongue slipped between your slick folds, you cried out in pleasure. You felt his smirk against your skin as he licked over your entrance in slow strokes, the merest flick against your clit having you throw your head back with a throaty moan.

“That’s it, babe, let me hear you. Let go.”

One of his hands trailed up your backside, gripping your ass with bruising force as he held you in place. His free hand moved up your thigh, circling your clit once, twice, before he plunged two of his fingers into you. His mouth fastened on your sweet spot, licking and sucking in time to the strokes of his fingers, every move designed to bring you maximum pleasure.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, the only thing holding you upright at this point as you gave yourself over to the sensation. Your breath came in erratic bursts and when he increased his pace and oh so gently nibbled at your most sensitive part, your vision exploded in a blinding wave of pleasure, the force of your orgasm so intense that you screamed his name across the vast expanse of sand and water.

He continued his movements, letting you ride out your high until you slumped against him, completely spent. He caught you, rising to his feet to cradle you against him as he stroked your back and hair.

For a long moment, the murmur of the sea and your ragged breath were the only sound until, with an effort, you found your voice again. “That was… I…” his quiet laugh tickled your neck. “Told you tonight was about you, mama. Think you can walk? Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

The night had indeed turned chilly and you didn’t object when he tugged you close into his side as you made your way back to the car. Belatedly, you remembered your panties, lying forgotten in the sand. Oh well. You had been meaning to buy new, nicer ones anyway.

Once you were in the car, he turned up the heat, holding your hand across the seats, tracing absent-minded patterns on your knuckles.

When he pulled up in front of your house, you placed your other hand over his as you looked at him. “Thank you, Christopher. Today was a wonderful day. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much.” His brown eyes danced with mirth, but also a warmth you didn’t remember seeing there before. “I could tell, darling. You’re welcome. I had fun too.” he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before he got out to walk you to your door.

As you reached the threshold, you caught his eye again. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier. About the trouble with your accountant. If… If you like I could go over your books, see if any irregularities pop out at me. I don’t want to impose, but if I can help…” you shrugged, leaving the offer hanging between you.

His expression turned calculating, one eyebrow cocked as he studied you, his gaze assessing. His nod, when it came, was slow but sure. “If you’re willing, yeah, that could work. I’ll bring you some samples, let you get the picture…” his focus was turned inward, clearly deep in thought before he seemed to reach a final decision. “Yeah. I’d appreciate that. If he’s, uh, crooked, better find out now, and you’re perfect for the job, really.” A genuine smile graced his handsome features. “Thanks, mama. I’ll stop by some day and-”

“No.” your voice rang firm and strong across the street.

“No, Christopher, I’m done waiting for you to stop by, to come and find me. We will exchange numbers like normal people do. You will call me. You will send me texts and ask about my day and send me silly memes. You will buy me dinner tomorrow night and bring your books. We’ll eat, we’ll talk, and then I’ll get to work on your accounts. This is how we’ll do this from now on.” You held his gaze, not backing down an inch.

For a moment he stood unmoving, until a new emotion flickered in his eye. Respect, you realized.

Without further comment, he pulled out his phone, saving your number and giving you his in return.

“As you wish, my lady. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leaned towards you, placing an open, lingering kiss to your lips before he turned to go.

“Don’t hold your breath on those memes though, mama.” he called over his shoulder before he got in the car and sped away.

Laughing, you shook your head and walked inside.


	4. Deal with the Devil

Midnight had come and gone and still you sat on your couch, cross-legged, a mug of coffee, cold and long forgotten on the table in front of you.

It just didn’t add up.

When Christopher had brought you his books Sunday last, you had expected a pretty straightforward ledger, similar to the ones you encountered in your day job. What he had presented you with, however, was a heavily redacted pile of manila folders stuffed to bursting with seemingly random sequences of numbers that, at first, made no sense to you whatsoever.

You supposed that some confidentiality agreement prevented him from giving you the original documents, and while you understood, it made your work considerably more difficult.

Not that you minded.

While your new position as Head of Department kept you busy, the work itself flowed effortlessly, consisting in large part of delegating and checking your colleagues’ - usually flawless - output.

A challenge was more than welcome and you’d jumped at the chance, working late into the nights until you’d finally managed to crack the code. Once you’d made sense of the numbers, you marveled at the incredible sums that were being moved - you still had only the vaguest idea of what Christopher actually did, his explanation of “import/export of sorts” not in the least illuminating. Whatever it was, his business must be going exceptionally well if he could juggle seven figures on a daily basis.

You had also discovered pretty much straight away that his accountant indeed ripped him off. It was subtle and well hidden, virtually undetectable for someone who didn’t know exactly what they were looking for, but you excelled at your job and the signs had been obvious to you.

You had made copious notes, simplified so that a layman could make sense of it, handing them over to a most grateful Christopher who promised he would “take care of the matter without turning the man over to the cops”.

That should have been the end of it, only… There was that other matter that had caught your eye.

While most of the paperwork was blackened over, there had been one paragraph that had apparently been overlooked. It wasn’t much, only a single phrase, but you’d been puzzling over it ever since. “20 keys, Louis, Eastside”.

You wouldn’t call yourself well versed in street slang, your experience limited to late night true crime shows, but even you suspected that Christopher wasn’t in the locksmithing business.

It nagged at you. Night after night you kept poring over the copies you’d made on the sly, willing them to offer up more information, to just make sense. They remained as cryptic as ever.

With a frustrated sigh, you snapped the folder shut and rubbed your tired eyes. Maybe you were reading too much into this. Maybe it was all completely innocent, an insider term that meant nothing.

And yet.

His mysterious air. His obvious wealth. His reluctance to offer any information about himself. You hated the feeling of suspicion creeping in, yet you couldn’t deny its existence.

Stuffing the folders into your briefcase, you rose from the couch. Vowing to confront Christopher as soon as the opportunity presented itself, you headed into the bedroom.

It was time you got some sleep.

~~~ The next day ~~~

Work had passed in a blur, a new big client taking up all of your department’s resources, leaving you to juggle accounts and make sure everything ran smoothly. You enjoyed it, organizing schedules, putting together teams, diving into the new challenges with gusto. Nevertheless, once the day died down and you finally packed up to leave, you were exhausted. Waving goodbye to your colleagues and thanking them for doing a great job, you exited the building and made your way to your car.

Like all sensible single women living in a big city, you tried to be hyper vigilant when out alone after dark, but the day had been so draining that you must have let your guard down.

You didn’t see the man lurking by your car until you’d almost reached the driver’s side. When he took a step forward, you started so violently you dropped your keys. Frozen with fear, it took you a moment to recognize him.

He must have lost at least 20 pounds, his clothes hanging loosely off his gaunt frame, his hair, once thick and black now a tangled frizz of white, an unkempt, patchy beard covering his chin.

“Brian?” you choked out, unable to believe that what you thought was a homeless man was actually your former boss.

If his disheveled appearance had shocked you, it was nothing compared to the expression in his eyes. A haunted, feverish gaze met yours briefly before it darted away, fastening on the sidewalk at your feet.

“What happened to you?” You couldn’t help the note of pity coloring your tone. The man had made your work life miserable and you had been glad to see him go but it was obvious that something was majorly wrong with him.

His voice, once a booming bass, was barely above a thin whisper when he spoke, eyes scanning the lot as though he was a afraid to be overheard. “Y/N, listen to me. You have to-you have to get away. He-he’s the devil, do you understand? He'll…he’ll destroy everything you love if you don’t give him what he wants, I never should have, I-” A single tear ran down his cheek as his eyes met yours, the naked terror reflected there making you take an involuntary step back.

“Brian.. What are you talking about? Who’s this he I should get away from? Listen, if you need…help, I can try to talk to Mary, or-” he cut you off with a sound that was half sob, half strangled laugh.

“Oh you poor fool, you think she isn’t in on this? That he doesn’t have them all in his pocket?” He lurched forward with a speed you hadn’t thought him capable of and snatched your arm in a viselike grip. “Run, Y/N. Run, while you still can.”

In vain, you struggled against his hold when suddenly his hand slackened, all color draining from his face.

A man detached himself from the shadows, walking towards the two of you at an unhurried pace. Tall and thickset, bald with a tattooed feather above his eyebrow, he cut an impressive figure to be sure, but not nearly enough to warrant Brian’s extreme reaction. You could feel him tremble through the hand still resting on your arm, his eyes wide with horror, firmly fixed on the newcomer.

“Evenin’, Ma'am. This guy giving you any trouble?” the man asked politely, yet you could detect the hint of menace beneath. Brian let go of you immediately, shaking his head vehemently. “N-no no no, I was just… we were… I didn’t v-violate his terms, I swear, I-” The man had come to stand inches away from your former employer, a hard gaze making him cower. “I think it’s time for you to leave, buddy. Better not harass the lady again.” When the man reached into his pocket, you could see a dark stain spread across Brian’s pants as he backed away slowly, a murmured chorus of “No, please no” accompanying his retreat, never losing sight of the man’s hand. When all he did was produce a surprisingly pristine white cloth handkerchief to offer you, Brian’s whole frame sagged. With one more intense look in your direction he turned and ambled off into the night.

You watched his hunched figure until he was out of sight, deeply disturbed by the encounter.

When the man cleared his throat, you nearly jumped out of your skin. With an awkward shake of your head, you declined the proffered piece of linen. “Yeah, um, no, thank you, I’m good. Just..a little startled, that’s all. I… We know each other, so..he wasn’t really a danger or anything. But thank you. For stepping in. I appreciate it.” Your rambling seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded, eyes still turned in the direction of Brian’s hasty flight. He bent down to retrieve your keys which you snatched from his hand with another muttered thanks. “S'alright, Ma'am. Maybe don’t linger in deserted parking lots after dark. City can be a dangerous place.” With this cryptic parting shot he turned and melted back into the shadows, gone so fast you would have missed it had you but blinked.

Your heart beat like crazy and you hurriedly got into the car, locking the doors before you bent your head over the steering wheel, gulping air as you struggled to calm down.

What the hell was that?

Nothing about this encounter made any sense and Brian’s words, the emphatic if disjointed warning, had scared you deeply.

Once you got your breathing somewhat under control and the tremor in your hands had stilled, you started the car and turned towards the safety of your home.

You had a lot to think about.

~~~ The next day~~~

One of the perks of being the boss was the fact that you could come and go as you pleased, provided you got the hours in. After a night of tossing and turning you had given up on sleep around 4am, deciding to go into work a little later that day. Last night’s events had shaken you up, your mind whirring with everything Brian had said, the mysterious phrase from Christopher’s books fitting into the picture in a way that was starting to frighten you.

You sat slumped on your couch, nursing your third cup of coffee, flicking through TV channels listlessly without really seeing any of it, glad for some background noise that kept your thoughts at bay.

You almost missed it. Almost. Yet when you landed on the local news channel, something about the headline made you pause, your finger hovering over the button.

“…. body found in the bay this morning… mutilated almost beyond recognition… unprecedented brutality… execution… victim known to work as a bookkeeper for drug running gang….”

The piece went for another minute before it segued into the weather forecast.

You didn’t hear a single word, ice running through your veins as you processed what you had just seen.

A bookkeeper, an accountant, was found dead, executed, a man who had worked numbers for a gang selling drugs.

Drugs… heroine…

Keys of heroine.

20 keys, Louis, Eastside.

The mug slipped from your fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor.

No. It couldn’t be true. You shook your head violently, heart racing in your chest. It was a coincidence. It had to be. And yet, you knew in your heart that it wasn’t.

Your mind snapped into focus and you gasped as though coming up for air after being underwater. You had to confront him, give him the chance to explain. While you didn’t know him long yet, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, wanted to see where things between you would go but he’d have to give you answers for that.

With a new, steely resolve you grabbed your phone, texting him to meet you at your house that night, urgently.

The time for evasions was over.

~~~later that evening~~~

It was a testament to your team’s skill that work continued to run smoothly that day. Had it rested on you, nothing would have gotten done. You were tired and keyed up, so distracted that you made rookie mistakes that would have gotten you fired if your - increasingly worried - coworkers hadn’t caught on. When Kara gently suggested you call it a day, you squeezed her shoulder in silent thanks and made your way home, not even bothering to change out of your suit while you waited for Christopher to arrive. You found it strangely soothing, the crisp cut of the skirt and blazer almost like armor.

When his knock sounded, you squared your shoulders and ushered him in, turning your head at the last minute so his kiss merely brushed your cheek.

With a frown, he sank onto the sofa, patting the spot beside him. “Something wrong mama? Come on, tell me. Work giving you trouble again?”

His words brought back memories of Brian’s insinuations, of the mystery recommendation that has secured your promotion, the thoughts chasing each other round and round your head until you shook yourself out of it.

Perching on the edge of the armchair facing him, you fixed him with a steady gaze.

“It’s not work, no. It’s you. I…” you rummaged through the briefcase at your feet, extracting the folder that held copies of his books, the phrase that had haunted you highlighted in a jaunty neon pink that made mockery of the very serious content.

“I want answers, Christopher. I need to know… I need to know what this means. What exactly it is that you do. What happened to your accountant? I will not be lied to any longer.”

The moment he recognized the document, he sat up straight, a dangerous expression crossing his handsome features.

“You made copies? The hell you did that for? Did you show these to anyone else?” His voice held no warmth, no teasing as he made to grab the folder, his fingers brushing the paper before you snatched it out if his reach.

“No.” you said sharply, refusing to cower in the face of his displeasure. “I am the one who’s asking the questions tonight. You asked me to look into this and I did. Now I want to know what it was that I’ve been looking at.”

His laugh was harsh and without humor. “Oh, now you wanna know, do you, sweetheart? Do you really though? Think you can handle it? You obviously think you’ve got it all figured out. I can tell you’re just about bursting with it. So tell me, mama, what do you think it is you’re looking at?”

Your heart constricted at his callous words. You could hardly believe this was the same man that had chased you through the water, laughing and tender and sweet. I know nothing about him. you realized. It hurt more than it should, given the brevity of your acquaintance.

“I think,” you said slowly, keeping eye contact to gauge his reaction, “I think that you aren’t just running some import/export business. I think you might..run a very different kind of empire. One where accountants that steal from you wind up in the bay with a few limbs missing. I think… I think you’re not at all who you pretend to be.” your voice had dropped to a whisper, heart racing as you laid out your accusations. You had expected denial, rage, threats even, what you had not expected was laughter.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, darling. I never pretended to be anything. You only chose to see what you wished to see. Ain’t my fault you’d rather be blind than face the truth.” he replied, leaning back against the cushions, arms draped over the back of the couch, the picture of ease. He was right and he knew it.

You had ignored the warning signs.

You wouldn’t any longer.

“Why-” you swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady, “why did you even bother? Why me? Why did you show me these?” you asked, holding up the folder. You were starting to suspect that the phrase had been left in there on purpose rather than by accident, some sick test, to what end you could not fathom.

Christopher seemed to sense your determination for he sat up, all business as he nodded.

“I gave you the books to see what you could do. Needed to make sure you got what it takes. Skills but also the guts. And I was right.”

If he had slapped you you couldn’t have been more stunned. It was all you could do to gape at him as everything clicked into place.

“You already knew he was crooked. You were testing me, seeing if I could spot the signs, but… Why?!”

A soft chuckle bushed against you, making you shiver despite yourself. “It’s obvious, ain’t it? I want you to take over. You’re perfect, no one will ever suspect you, upstanding Head of Depart that you are. You’re brilliant, you’re loyal and you can keep your mouth shut. I want you to work as my accountant. Keep my books in order. I’ll make it worth your while too. Whatever you earn now at that firm of yours? Think triple that. ‘Course I knew Daz was stealing from me. I needed you to know it too. Needed you to see what happens to those who think they can double-cross me.”

It took you a moment to find your voice again, fear and outrage warring inside of you.

In the end, outrage won out as you sputtered.

“What on earth makes you think I’d want to work for you?! You just as good as admitted to having a man killed. Killed, Christopher. In my world that’s.. That’s just unthinkable. It’s wrong. You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’d ever agree to this.”

He crossed his legs, completely unfazed.

“And yet, here I sit, mama. On your couch, chatting nicely, instead of handcuffed at the precinct. Wonder why that is, if you’re so keen on doing the right thing.”

His nonchalance stunned you even as a small voice whispered that he had a point. Turning him over to the police hadn’t even occurred to you.

With an effort, you met his gaze, the paper crumpling as your grip tightened. You felt the edge bite into the flesh of your palm, followed by the warm gush of blood welling from the papercut but you paid it no heed.

“Get out.” you choked, voice strangled as you fought against the tears that threatened to spill.

He was on you in an instant, tearing the folder, now liberally smeared with your blood, from your grip as he cradled your palm, his face clouded with worry. “Lemme see that, mama, that cut looks nasty. Come here, you got a first-aid-kit somewhere, I’ll-”

It was too much. The genuine care and affection in his eyes undid you, the last vestiges of composure snapping as you shoved him hard.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Christopher! Don’t you fucking touch me now!” you were vaguely aware that you were yelling but you just didn’t care. “Did it mean anything to you? Us? What we might have been? No-” you held up your hand, bleeding profusely from what you now saw clearly wasn’t just a papercut. You must have torn the skin on one of the clips stapling the pages together. “Don’t you dare interrupt me. I… I had feelings for you. I thought you were different. I thought we could build something. Together. You played me like a fucking fiddle and I fell for it.” The tears were flowing in earnest now, blurring your vision as you looked at the man you thought you could love.

“Get. Out.” you rasped through gritted teeth, averting your eyes so he wouldn’t see the pain written there. All you wanted was to curl up in a ball and weep. All you wanted was for him to leave.

Mercifully, he did.

~~~two months later~~~

Get up. Go to work. Eat. Sleep. Get up.

Your days ran together, your job the only thing that got you out of bed. Your coworkers, sensing that something was off, thankfully gave you space although you were sure the rumor mill was more than busy. You found you couldn’t muster the energy to care.

He hadn’t called again. Part of you was relieved even while another part, one you tried your hardest to suppress, was deeply disappointed. You still shed the occasional tear when you thought back to that night but you knew you had made the right decision, painful though it may be.

You were once more ensconced in front of the TV, moving the Chinese takeaway around its container rather than eating it, when the buzzing phone cut through your stupor. For one wild moment you were sure it was him, your heart stuttering in your chest until you checked the caller ID. You frowned when you recognized your older sister’s number.

While you had gone off to college, Evelyn had stayed behind to marry her highschool sweetheart and keep an eye on your father. Ever since your mother’s sudden death during your sophomore year, he hadn’t been the same and you were glad Evie was there, even if your relationship with your family was more than a little strained.

With a sense of foreboding, you accepted the call.

“Evelyn? What’s the matter? Everything alr-” Your sister’s tear choked voice cut you off, dread spreading through you. “Y/N? It's… it’s Dad. He- he had another stroke. Much worse than the last. Dr. Evan’s says he needs to be put in a nursing home. I-I would take care of him but Jim and I just had little Emily and I.. I’m pregnant again and..” her sobs were tearing at your heart. Despite everything, you loved your sister and your father and you felt your own tears rise in answer.

“Shhh, Evie, shh, it’s alright, we’ll figure something out. Of course you can’t take him in, you take care of your babies, don’t you worry.” you soothed, hating yourself for putting all this on her, for not being there for your kin.

“It’s just.. Do you know what those homes cost, Y/N? Jim is working double shifts any chance he gets but with another baby on the way…”

When she told you the monthly sum, you thought you’d faint. Even with your promotion, you would never be able to swing it and you didn’t expect your brother in law who worked as a security guard to carry that burden by himself.

Had the situation not been as dire, you might have laughed at the mercurial whims of the universe.

“Listen to me, Evie. I will take care of it. I’ll send you the money every month and I’ll come down as soon as my job allows. I just got promoted, it’s.. Money’s not an issue for me. Please don’t worry. We’ll take care of him, make sure he gets into the best facility.”

It took you another hour of reassurances and soothing words until your sister had calmed down. You hung up, feeling a bone deep weariness and exhaustion that seemed to weigh on your very soul.

With the air of a woman condemned, you took up the phone again, dialing the number by heart. Your call was picked up on the third ring.

“Christopher? It’s me. About that deal…”


	5. The Devil's Due

_ What did one wear for a job interview with a murderer?  _

You stood in front of your closet, running your fingers over the rows of fabric before you. 

_ A suit?  _ Too formal. 

_ Jeans and a tee?  _ Not formal enough 

_ That cute little sundress you bought on a whim after that day at the beach where- _ Don't even go there. 

With a frustrated huff, you delved into the depths again, pulling out clothes at random to blindly throw onto your bed. Part of your mind was gladly latching onto the comparatively minor pickle of choosing an outfit since it allowed you to ignore the bigger issue, at least temporarily. 

_ You were applying for a job with a murderer.  _

The thought came unbidden, freezing your fingers as they grasped a pastel pink blazer you'd been meaning to throw out for a solid two years. 

_ What the hell am I doing?  _ You didn't need your overactive imagination to paint pictures of all the things that could go wrong, all the dangers this deal might bring, yet your anxiety riddled brain was more than happy to provide a gruesome selection of horror scenarios. 

_ What's the worst he can do, kill you?  _ You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a shrill, hysterical giggle. Taking a deep breath, then another, you forced yourself to focus. 

When you'd called Christopher, you had expected many reactions. Taunts, smugness, insults, an outright refusal even. You had braced yourself, yet the blow never came. 

"What's wrong,  _ mama?  _ Everything alright?" The genuine worry coloring his tone had stunned you. After your encounter, kindness and concern were the last things you'd expected. Thrown, you took a full minute to compose yourself as you fought down a swell of emotions at the sound of his voice. You had  _ not  _ missed hearing it. You had  _ not  _ missed him. Like a dash of cold water, images of that news report flashed before your eyes, a testament to the violence this man was capable of. 

Once you were satisfied that your voice was sure and steady, you'd given him a brief explanation, stating  _ a personal situation that had suddenly come up _ and asked to meet in case the offer was still open. It was Christopher's turn to collect his thoughts, it seemed, for his reply came after a noticeable interlude of silence 

"Job might still be available, yeah.  _ Might.  _ I ain't too sure you're the right one anymore though. In this business, I can't afford to work with people as flaky as that. It's either in or out, you get what I'm saying? You still wanna meet, sugar?" 

You fervently hoped he didn't hear you gulp as his words sunk in.  _ It's either in or out.  _ Of course you'd known any association with him wouldn't exactly be a regular nine-to-five with a health plan to boot but the insinuation in that casual yet loaded statement brought home the grim reality of what you were about to get yourself into. Gritting your teeth, you tightened your grip on the phone, nodding although he couldn't see it. You really didn't have another alternative. 

"Yes. I still want to meet. As soon as possible." A faint chuckle greeted your statement. "Alright. I'll have someone pick you up in an hour. Be ready." Before you could answer, a soft  _ click  _ told you he'd ended the call already. You stood stock still for a moment, the phone forgotten in your loose grasp as you tried to calm the frantic beat of your heart. You'd hoped for a week, at least a couple of days to prepare, but of course he would do things on his terms, catch you off guard. Well, you'd just have to prove him wrong. Almost as though someone had fired a starting pistol at a race you were off, hastening into your bedroom to simultaneously decide on an outfit and prep for the conversation, the folder he'd given you what felt like a lifetime ago spread out across your bed. 

You had just finished buttoning up the cream colored blouse you had paired with your nicer black jeans - just the right blend of formal and casual - when a knock sounded on your front door. Slipping into your heels and grabbing your purse hurriedly, you swung the door open, only to gasp when you saw who was waiting for you on the other side. 

It was the man from the parking lot, the one who had chased away Brian that night everything had started to click into place. "You!" The accusation blurted out almost against your will but he didn't even acknowledge it. His only reaction was to jerk his head in the direction of a nondescript sedan parked at the curb, engine idling. Turning on his heel, he strode towards the vehicle, not bothering to check whether you would follow, making you scramble to keep up with him. Once you were buckled in the passenger seat, he took off, ignoring every attempt at conversation until you resigned yourself to a tense ride in utter silence. 

After about 45 minutes, he pulled into the lot of what you estimated was some sort of warehouse, the structure dilapidated and clearly abandoned. The short notice of your summons hadn't given you much time to be afraid but now, as you took in the remote location, fear bubbled up, your stomach in knots as you followed the man to a rusty side door into the building. 

You had expected a bustling operation, people running to and fro on whatever tasks Christopher had set them, but the sight that greeted you made icy tendrils shoot through your veins as fear evolved into stark terror. 

The interior was dark, a single spot of light illuminating the center of the main area. It was bare of machinery or furniture, bare, that is, except for one lonely chair, placed squarely in the center of the room, brought into focus by the light turned directly on it. You tried your best not to notice that the chair, a cheap, metal folding affair, was set directly above a drain. You clutched your purse tightly in front of you, a flimsy shield against whatever they had in store for you. 

"Evenin'  _ mama _ , so glad you could make it." Christopher's voice drawled as he detached himself from the shadows, his face shrouded in darkness as he came to stand behind the chair, hands resting on its back. "Where are my manners, please, sit." he said, patting the chair in a mockery of cordial invitation. 

Your feet dragged as, like a lamb to the slaughter, you shuffled forward. This was  _ his  _ game, played by  _ his  _ rules and if you wanted what you came for, there was no point in resisting. When you reached him, he gave you a broad, predatory grin, gesturing grandly at the paltry lawn chair. With a deep unease, you sank down, the hairs on your neck standing on end as he made no move to vacate his spot behind you. The other man, you noted, had positioned himself by the door in a manner that told you there was no getting out unless his boss allowed it. 

"Alright!" Christopher exclaimed suddenly, slapping the back of the chair with his palm, making you jump with an undignified squeak. The bastard had the audacity to laugh. "Why so tense, sweetheart? It was you who wanted to meet, remember? So," he said, rounding the chair until he came to stand in front of you, arms crossed as he looked down, his face just outside the circle of light, impossible to read. "Tell me. What made you change your mind? Last I remember, you were telling me to get out and never come back, yet here we are. And don't even think about lying or giving me that  _ personal situation  _ bullshit. It's the truth, or…" he said, his voice hard as he trailed off, leaving it to your overactive imagination to fill the blank. Unconsciously, you tightened your grip on your purse, the leather by now slick with your sweat as you tried to still the tremble in your hands. Despite the gloom, you thought you saw his eyes dart down, cataloging the smallest motion. 

"I-" you started, your voice nothing but a faint croak. Clearing your throat, you tried again. "I received a call tonight. From my sister. Our father had a- a stroke and he..he needs to be put in a nursing home. My sister and her husband cannot afford the monthly bills, not even if I chip in on my current salary, so…" 

"So you thought, why not hit me up for the job you threw in my face last time? Think I'm into charity,  _ mama _ ? Think your sob story will sway me?" The harsh words were delivered in such a flat, almost bored tone it infused them with more cruelty than anger could have. Loosening his rigid stance, he started pacing, slowly circling around the chair, forcing you to swivel your head to keep track of him. "I'm running a business here, darlin'. This ain't no cozy office where you can ask for an advance when times are tough. I ain't writing you a recommendation when you don't wanna work for me no more. There's no quitting here. Remember the last guy who filled the position you're so eager to get?" He must have sensed the shudder that ran through your body for he stopped his progress, once again behind you as he leaned down to bring his lips close to your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin."I'm not sure you got what it takes,  _ mama.  _ Not in the long run. You insult me, yell at me, accuse me of playing you. Tell me," he whispered, trailing a single finger down the side of your neck, all the way down until his palm cupped your bare throat. The grip was light, but the implication rang loud and clear. You barely dared to breathe as he continued. "Why should I trust you? Name  _ one  _ good reason why I should allow you to work for me." His grip increased infinitesimally before he let go, eliciting an involuntary exhale of relief. You didn't fool yourself into thinking the danger was past. This time, when he returned to his position in front of you, he crouched down so the two of you were at eye level, his gaze intent as it bore into yours. "Go on,  _ mama _ ." he challenged. 

"You need me." The statement, as simple as it was bold, had the intended effect. Christopher blinked in surprise, a new, calculating gleam entering his eye. "That so, huh? And what would I need some second rate bookie too timid to stand up for herself for?" It stung. You couldn't deny it. But if the whole mess had taught you anything, it was that you  _ could _ stand up for yourself. You weren't that frightened girl that turned to strangers at a bar for comfort anymore. You were done with being cowed by men. 

With a determination that surprised even yourself, you stood, forcing him to scramble backwards and onto his feet lest you knock him over. 

"You said it yourself, no one will connect me with..well you. I'm the perfect choice and I'll have you know," you came to stand right in front of him, never breaking eye contact, "I am fucking  _ brilliant  _ at my job, so don't you call me second rate. Those books you showed me? That's basic numbers, hardly a challenge for me. And, frankly, the system could do with a few improvements, it's tragically out of date. So, I bring a lot to the table and well you know it. Otherwise you wouldn't have asked me in the first place." 

You knew it was a gamble, going toe-to-toe with him like that but the moment you saw his expression change you knew it had paid off. 

A mixture of amusement and respect entered his gaze, his posture losing some of its threatening loom as he smirked down at you. "There's that fire I've been missing." The unexpected warmth in his tone, coupled with the affection you saw as you looked into his eyes caught you off guard, taking you back to when he was just Christopher, the cute, mysterious guy who whisked you off on spontaneous beach dates. His mind seemed to have wandered down a similar path for he blinked suddenly, the mask of cool, calculating indifference sliding back into place. 

"Alright, you want in, I'll give you a chance. First though, you gotta prove yourself. What," he taunted, "You thought you could just waltz in here and I'll hand you a job on a platter after all the shit that went down? Sorry, honey, but that's not how this works." He took a step back, throwing you a wink before he walked over to the chair you had just vacated. With the air of someone who owns the world he sat down, throwing his arms over the back, one ankle resting on his knee as he gave you a broad grin.

"Just so happens I know exactly how you can do that. Oh, c'mon  _ mama  _ relax." he said, the tension in your frame not escaping his notice. Standing before him like a supplicant before their king did nothing to restore your equilibrium as you fidgeted with your purse strap, unable to keep still. "What would you have me do?" you asked quietly, resignation dripping from every syllable. 

At your words, he leaned forward, all business, hands clasped loosely in his lap. "The name  _ Fernwood Inc.  _ ring any bells?" 

A deep frown wrinkled your brow at this unexpected turn. "That is…one of our clients. They have major accounts we're handling for them." you replied, utterly bewildered. Christopher nodded. Clearly, this wasn't news to him. "What they also are, is my competitor. Lucius Fernwood runs a…business similar to ours, the corporation is a shell to distribute and launder the money. Clever little scheme his old man started before his tragic accident a couple years back. Old Fernwood and I, we had an arrangement, one that benefitted both of us, but Lucius, he ain't cut from the same cloth as his daddy. Thinks he can double cross me, cheat me out of my cut. Gotta give him this, he's smart enough to have a plan in place that means I can't touch him outright, so here's where you come in. You'll bring me everything you have on him and his businesses. The books, accounts, numbers, any little detail you can dig up. You're the boss lady now, after all, should be a piece of cake."

Dread seized hold of you, a cold weight dragging you down as a horrible suspicion dawned.  _ Had this been his plan all along _ ? What was more, this was your  _ work.  _ If you lost that job, you might as well live on the streets. Besides… 

"But that's illegal!" you blurted inanely, a panicky note turning your voice into a squeak. 

Christopher threw his head back as he burst into laughter, the sound of his amusement echoing through the empty warehouse, amplified to a boom of merriment. "Ah, shit, sweetheart,  _ now  _ you're concerned about the law?" he chortled, running a hand over his face even as his frame still shook with silent laughter. 

You fixed your eyes resolutely on the debris strewn concrete at your feet. He did have a point, but that didn't mean he had to throw it in your face like that. Once his amusement subsided into a chuckle, you raised your gaze to his. "What I meant was, if I get caught that…that wouldn't just mean the end of my career. I'm not only breaking confidentiality but possibly aiding and abetting in…whatever it is you plan to do with Mr. Fernwood. It's a huge risk I'd be taking."

All trace of joking was wiped off his face as he pinned you with a hard glare. "Then you better make sure you won't get caught,  _ mama _ . You wanna work for me? You want in? That's my price. The  _ how  _ ain't my problem, that's for you to figure out. Get me what I want and I'll allow you to be my bookkeeper. Allow you to pay for your father's care." He rose, bridging the distance between you in two long strides. Slowly, he held out his hand to you.

"Choice is yours. Do we have a deal?"

Your entire world narrowed down to his hand, offered in what you knew was nothing short of a deal with the devil. A million thoughts assaulted your mind, a million reasons why you should say No, why you should turn tail and run. And then an image flashed before your inner eye, a vision crowding out all others.  _ Your sister, heavily pregnant, a toddler at her hip, crying over the listless form of your father, his eyes vacant, his frame gaunt, whom she had to take in because she couldn't afford proper care.  _

You had to close your eyes to fight the tears that threatened to spill. Christopher watched, face blank as you grappled with your decision. In the end, it wasn't even a choice. 

When you raised your hand to grasp his, you knew in your heart you were sealing your fate. You found you didn't care anymore. 

His grip, when you touched, was firm, the pressure just shy of painful. As you were about to let go, he pulled you close so suddenly you had to grab his shoulder for balance. Your faces were inches apart, the intensity of his smoldering eyes almost physical. "You better not disappoint me,  _ mama _ . I ain't a second chances kinda guy. You deliver, or you're done. Understand?" It was all you could do to nod, your whole body humming with tension, so when his finger ran along your knuckles, flipping your hand so he could trace circles across your wrist, your frame jerked at the sudden caress. His voice, this time, was gentler, almost grudgingly so. "I don't… I know you can do this. I know you'll be great for the job and we'll get your Dad settled straight away. Don't worry too much, Y/N, I take care of my own. Trust me on this at least." The raw emotion that gripped him made something flutter inside of you in answer. Knowing this was a bad idea, you quashed it quickly, yet a small part of you relaxed at his reassurance. Maybe this really could work out. You had to believe it, otherwise you might as well give up and that was just not in your nature. 

When you pulled away this time, he let you go, lingering close for a moment before he stepped back. "Glad we settled things. I expect results within the week. We'll be in touch."

A douse of icy water couldn't have shocked you more as you gaped at him. "A  _ week?! _ " You didn't care that your voice sounded shrill in the vast hall. "That's impossible! Gathering the files alone will take some time. I can't just pull them at random, I'm not the one working on that account, there will be questions…" Christopher didn't even dignify you with a response. His back turned, he merged back into the shadows at the back, a demon disappearing in a puff of smoke. His voice was eerily detached as it floated up from the dark. "You'll think of something,  _ mama _ . Remember, no deets no deal." The sound of a door being shut bespoke the end of this conversation with a sickening finality. 

Almost in a daze, you retraced your steps, following the hulking form of your silent chauffeur back to the car, the ride passing in a blur. 

The feeling of relief as you shut the door in the guy's face was short lived as the ramifications of the night's events crashed over you. Mind whirring, desperately trying to come up with a solution, you settled on your couch, jacket, heels and all. You had your work cut out for you. 

~~~~One week later~~~~

In the end, it had been frighteningly easy. When you returned to work the day after your clandestine meeting, your discreet inquiries revealed that it was none other than Kara, your coworker slash workfriend who handled the Fernwood account. When you'd casually asked her over lunch how she was getting on with such a big, demanding client, she had reacted exactly as you had hoped. Ever since your promotion, whenever you asked your former teammates about their work, they took it as an indication that something was amiss, that their output wasn't up to standard. While you were usually quick to reassure them, in this case your new position came in handy.

Unease was written across Kara's features when she admitted that, yes, the responsibility was weighing on her, especially since she had two other major accounts to look after. You had to swallow the lump that rose at her grateful expression when you offered to look over the files for her, to evaluate her work and possibly lend a helping hand on some of the finer parts. You hated manipulating her like that, but you were truly desperate and long past caring. So when, at the end of the workday, you carried a medium box containing the physical files as well as two hard-drives, you felt a mingled sense of guilt and triumph. This would buy you the in you needed with Christopher, for better or worse. 

Since he had impressed on you that it would be him that established contact, all you could do now was wait and hope. 

It was a Friday night, the air thick and humid, charged with the electricity of an oncoming storm. You were ensconced on your sofa, a bottle of wine and a pint of cookie dough ice cream at hand, trying to lose yourself in the latest Netflix RomCom when the sound of your doorbell shattered your fragile peace. 

_ He couldn't possibly be here already.  _

Gathering what composure you could muster, you approached the door, opening it a crack to reveal a man you'd never seen before.

He was tall, dressed in an immaculate anthracite suit, his bald head and ramrod straight posture exuding authority. His eyes were twinkling with a friendly, yet calculating grin as they caught yours. This definitely wasn't one of Christopher's men. 

When his hand went into the pocket of his blazer, you tensed, his reassuring chuckle, warm and jovial, doing nothing to put you at ease. 

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. I hope you'll forgive the late intrusion but I do believe we have a lot to talk about, you and I." His hand emerged with a slim wallet and when he flipped it open, your blood ran cold. 

"Agent Jim Turner with the FBI. May I come in?" 


End file.
